


The New Frontier

by 1unknowntheatrekid



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, French Indian War, Napoleonic Style Warfare, Non-Explicit Sex, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26129851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1unknowntheatrekid/pseuds/1unknowntheatrekid
Summary: Kili Monroe is a British Infantryman in the 60th Regiment of Foot in the French and Indian War. When his unit is unknowingly led into Middle Earth, memories from his past life surface, especially when the elf with hair the color of fire shows up. Here is a story of war, brotherhood, and love.
Relationships: Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I planned on writing this later after I had finished one of my other projects on Fanfiction.net (not self-advertisement), but then I started watching Last of the Mohicans, and I knew I had to write this ASAP. I also recommend listening to Promentory while reading.

The 60th Regiment of Foot marched through the American countryside, muskets resting against their shoulders and all heads facing forward. The regiment's colors drooped from the flag bearers' staff in the windless quiet. The drummer's beat banged on, in perfect time with the unit's foot falls.

Nobody spoke.The party of red coats moved on through the green and brown of the forest towards the final destination of Fort Duquesne. The generals were once again attempting to seize the outpost in the Ohio Valley from the French. A day ago, they had passed the remnants of Fort Necessity, the fort built by Colonel Washington when the Indians attacked. Mold had started to creep up its sides after two years of abandonment, and one of the logs that had made up the surrounding wall had fallen.

As the 60th continued along their path, the commanding officer suddenly stopped and called his men to a halt. He gazed off into the surrounding trees and shrubbery, before the march resumed. Something was out there, watching them.

Over time, the trees and nature around them began to change from the typical foliage that populated America. Most men guessed it was just the change of locations. Others didn't care. However, something wasn't right. The trees looked different; they were taller and were no longer pines or any that the Englishmen had seen. Soon enough, the path and overall atmosphere changed too. The dirt road became paved over with bricks, and the surrounding forest darkened, occasional spider webs littering the surroundings.

"Stop, men, stop!" the officer called, bringing the march to a halt.

"Monroe, the map if you please?"

Departing from the column of red and blue, the young, dark haired private joined the officer and began pouring over the map.

"Sir, we should be at a clearing by now with the fort and river in sight."

"So, we are lost Monroe"

"Well, no sir. We are still on the path that the general told us to follow."

"Do you think we should continue our present course?"

"Yes sir. If we cannot see the river within an hour, I believe, respectfully sir, that we should turn back."

The officer sighed before saying, "That will be all Monroe. We push on."

Saying nothing else, the regiment left the spot of their sudden stop and continued forward. With ever step, the forest seemed to creep in tighter and choke off the sunlight and fresh air. All the men felt like they were slowly suffocating. However, the path began to widen and finally, they could see light at the road's end.

What the 60th Regiment of Foot saw on the other side was not what they expected to see. A flat plain with rock formations every hundred meters populated their vision. Small flowers of white and yellow bloomed everywhere, and a tall, lonely mountain lay behind them, past the forest.

"What the bloody hell!?" the officer shouted in frustration. "Where the fuck are we!?"

The current surroundings seemed other worldly to the British infantrymen. They most certainly had not passed a single mountain when they had departed for Fort Duquesne yesterday, and the mountain range before them was not what lay on the horizon before.

Just as the regiment began to recollect themselves, a loud horn sounded in the distance, followed by the distant sounds of horses.

"Men, square formation!" the officer bellowed, rallying his men into 2 hollow squares that were meant to repel cavalry attacks.

"FIX BAYONETS!"

In a single sweeping motions, the familiar musket bayonets clicked onto the muzzles of 80 guns.

Once the click of metal meeting metal ceased, another regiment of Infantrymen, the 35th Light Infantry, marched out of the woods, finding their fellow comrades in squares. Similar to the 60th, the 35th Light Infantry wore the traditional red coat and black tricorn hat, but they had red trousers and elaborate gold facings on their jackets and collars. The 60th, however, had dark blue trousers and simple facings of the same color. They also wore a dark blue vest beneath their coats, whereas the light infantry had a red vest.

"William, what the hell are you doing?" the 35th's officer shouted.

"Cavalry moving towards our position. Could be the French, could be a war party."

"35th form squares!" the other officer ordered as two more squares appeared beside the 60th's.

Finally, the horn blowing cavalry came into view. They were not on horses in fact, but on some kind of big hairy beast that snarled and barked.

"What in God's name is that?" a private said, crossing himself and kissing a cross he wore on a necklace.

"MEN PREPARE TO HOLDFAST! ON MY COMMAND YOU WILL FIRE! MAKE READY!"

The front rows of the squares raised their muskets and pointed them forward, the now present sun glittering off the metal barrels.

"HOLD MEN!"

The mounted assailants drew closer, pulling out swords and clubs of some unknown origin.

"READY!"

Fingers slipped down to triggers, and muskets' hammers were pulled fully back.

The enemy wasn't the French. Or any Indian Brave. They were demons.

"FIRE!"

Loud cracks like thunder filled the air as the British open fired when the monstrous cavalry came within range. Riders were flung from their mounts as musket balls burrowed into their bodies. Some had their mounts killed while they rode, sending an enemy flying into the air or into a bayonet.

"FOR ENGLAND!" both officers yelled in union.

"FOR ENGLAND!" the infantrymen responded while reloading.

The few riders that did not meet their fate circled back around, keeping their distance and watching as their allies failed to kill so much as one Englishman. Unbeknownst to the 60th Regiment of Foot or the 35th Light Infantry, this would be the first of many encounters with these mounted demons.

After the small skirmish ceased with the demon riders retreating into the distance, both regiments left their squares and began to examine the enemy's dead. These monsters were the stuff of nightmares. Yellow eyes, sharp teeth, and dark black skin made them look like envoys of the devil himself.

"Sir, we got one alive," Private Monroe said to the 60th's commanding officer.

Nodding, the officer followed the Monroe to the still breathing rider, who was trapped beneath its dead mount.

Raising his sword to its neck, the officer began to question the wounded creature.

"You can't make me talk!" it said, spewing black blood from its mouth with each syllable.

"On the contrary, I believe I can. Let's start simply, what are you."

"Death."

"Death, eh," the officer said, "If you're death, then I'm the king of England."

It growled at him, showing off its stained teeth.

"Where are we?"

It chuckled an evil laugh that made all who heard flinch.

"Middle Earth." It responded, laying its head back and dying.

* * *

**First chapter down. I urge my readers to leave comments. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Kili

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2. Yay. I did not mention this last chapter, so I'm saying it now. I do NOT own the Hobbit or its characters (if I did, Kili would have survived, and we all know what would have happened afterwards).

Standing in silence, Kili Monroe gazed at the corpse of the demon that called itself death. Like the other members of the 60th Regiment of Foot, Kili did not know how to respond to its statement of being in a place called Middle Earth. Somehow, he and the other Englishmen had quite literally walked into another world without being fully aware of it. Sure, he had noticed the change in the forest when the dirt path suddenly became paved over with brick, but that could have just been a normal change in the scenery of America. After all, the continent was very large.

However, it wasn't the change of worlds, if it was really happening, that bothered him. It was the fact that this all felt familiar. The eerie forest behind him, the flat plain, the path, and that one lonely mountain past the forest. _Why do I know this place_ , he thought as he left his officer and rejoined the rest of the men in scavenging the dead.

"Monroe, look at this thing, its massive!" one of the 60th's privates said, flagging him over to one of the dead mounts. "What do you think it is?" he asked.

"I don't know. Looks like some kind of wolf." Kili answered, poking the corpse with his rifle's barrel.

"You think it's edible?"

"You cannot be that hungry."

Flies had begun to buzz around the body, and it was then that Kili noticed the stench.

"You are definitely not eating that!"

The man chuckled. "Guess not."

When an hour had passed, the 60th and the 35th left the plain and marched onwards, due south. The officers had guessed that it would be best if they left the field of battle as soon as possible and went in the opposite direction of whatever had attacked them. Most of the men agreed, though some proposed they stand and fight. They were easily overruled.

The march was boring as most marches were. There was no stopping and nothing to do other than stare forward and listen to the drummer's beat. During this time though, Kili began to wonder why this place was familiar. Slowly, he began to imagine being here with twelve other men, one of which who was overly tall and wore all grey. As for himself, he had a bow and a sword, as well as a beard. Again, he wondered why he knew this, especially the part about what he looked like and was carrying. 

"RIVER! IT'S A BLOODY RIVER!"

Returning to reality, Kili saw the river, pristine and shining in the sun. Like everyone else, including his commanding officer, he forgot his military etiquette and sprinted towards the source of water, greedily shoving as much liquid as his cupped hands could hold into his mouth. The cold river washed away all feelings of dehydration and revealed it had a healthy stock of fish. To make things even better, there was another forest, a couple miles, though this one looked normal and promised fresh meat.

"Gents, we make camp over there," the 35th's officer stated, gesturing towards the woods. The 60th followed thei brothers in arms.

The encampment was simple at best. Tents were scattered across the land, reaching from the forest to the banks of the river. For tonight, the British decided to celebrate their recent victory over their demonic enemies. 

Unfortunately for Kili Monroe and a few other unlucky souls, someone had to keep watch of the forest and horizon. While his fellow soldiers enjoyed the night, he spent his time crouched behind a bush, pointing a gun at the quiet forest. Every now and then, he had to rub his eyes to keep himself from falling asleep.

Despite guessing that the demons were out there, Kili got the impression he was being watched by something else. Something vaguely familiar. He didn’t know what it was that made him feel that way, but then again, he had been feeling strange since arriving in this place.

Shattering the quiet, he heard the sound of a branch break. Slowly, he raised his hand and signaled the man on his left to alert the camp that something was out in the woods.

Kili pulled the musket’s hammer fully back and took aim in the direction he heard the noise. He leveled his eye to the barrel and slowed his breathing, finding the space between heart beats. His aim would shine true.

Finally, he saw a dark shape crouched beside a tree, its yellow eyes barely visible in the dark.

He pulled the trigger and fire flashed from the muzzle of his gun as a metal ball departed into the night.

Following the shot, howls and snarls filled the air. Commotion erupted in the camp as men scrambled for their weapons and prepared for the oncoming fight.

“FORM RANKS!” the officers shouted, trying to rally their men to no avail.

“Here they co…” someone shouted before being abruptly silenced by an arrow in the throat.

Cracks exploded throughout the new field of battle, and the clang of metal on metal grew stronger as more monsters flooded into the camp.

Still in his night watch position, Kili began the long reloading process, dodging arrows and other projectiles with surprising grace.

With one quick motion, he tore open a new cartridge and placed a small amount of its gunpowder into the pan of his weapon (musket terms) before ramming it into the barrel with the ramrod. Sparks flew when he fired again.

In the two years he had spent in America, Kili had learned that speed was of utmost importance when in hand to hand combat, especially when the attackers were the Indians. They could easily kill any of his Majesty’s soldiers who wielded musket and bayonet. Due to that, he carried around a captured tomahawk in his pack and used his bayonet like a knife. Speed was everything, and these tools were perfect for that.

But theses demons didn’t fight like the Indians. Or anything he had seen. They were quicker and stronger with each blow and had an unpredictable, jerky style.

With what skill he possessed, Kili stood his ground, hacking and slashing his way through whatever challenged him. Bodies fell in quick succession as a pool of black blood began to form in front of him. He held his own against the onslaught of demons, until one he thought dead forced him to the ground. In an instant, it had its hands round his neck, choking away his life. The edges of his vision darkened as his hands grasped for his tomahawk lying beside him. Suddenly, the monster reared its head up and fell over beside him, and arrow protruding from its side.

Stumbling to his feet, Kili Monroe forced his eyes to blink open and shut, slowly removing the black edges from his sight. Though his vision was blurry, he saw the outline of someone in green with what looked like fire flowing behind them. When he finally recovered, he saw his savior, who was in fact a woman. She looked at him intently, her face practically seeping shock.

“Kili,” she whispered.

“How do you know my name?” he said.


End file.
